Except when you're in an office at the witching hour, editing a story about how Notre Dame beat Alabama, 24-23, in the Sugar Bowl for the national championship. That's how I spent the first five hours of 1974. Whoop-de-doo indeed.

But that one was a cakewalk compared to the Orange Bowl on New Year's Day, 1961. I had to write that story, not edit it, always tougher, especially with the deadline clock ticking. The magazine, Sports Illustrated, was being kept open a full day after its usual close, just for that game. I shiver now just thinking about it.

The teams involved were Missouri, one of the best in the country, and Navy, whose celebrated halfback, Joe Bellino, had just won the Heisman Trophy. Four days before the game I arrived in Miami, better there than the North Pole, but nowhere near as much fun as home, sweet home.

In those days, the first rule in the traveling writer's handbook was to locate a Western Union office and make certain in would be open all night. That's how stories were filed back then, none of this current save, then send.

When I got off the plane at the Miami airport and headed toward the baggage area, there in the middle of the concourse was a Western Union station. That would make my life easier, I thought. The man inside said yes, of course, the place was always open 24 hours a day and, as a matter of fact, he himself would be on duty.

I spent the next couple of days watching both teams work out, along with about 50 other members of the press. But at night I began to worry about the deadline. My editor wanted it no later than three hours after the final whistle. That would seem reasonable now, but I was young, relatively inexperienced and therefore as nervous as a bridegroom.

Then I hit upon a stroke of genius. There were, I figured, only four possible outcomes for the game. 1) Missouri wins and Bellino does nothing. 2) Missouri wins despite a heroic effort by Bellino. 3) Navy wins as Bellino stars. 4) Navy wins even though Bellino is held in check.

And so the day before the game, I sat down in my hotel room with my trusty Olivetti and wrote four different, about 300 words each. There was a New Year's Eve press party that evening, but, as the song goes, not for me. I arranged my four leads on a table and turned out the light.

At game time the next day, there I was in the press box, about 50 feet above the newly elected John F. Kennedy. The play-by-play is now fuzzy in my memory, but version 2 worked nicely. Missouri won 21-14, but Bellino caught a touchdown pass and otherwise acquitted himself well.

Bolstered by my pre-written lead, requiring only slight changes, I was finished in an hour and off to the airport in a cab. The Western Union office was open, as advertised, but the man inside was not the same one I had spoken to days earlier. In fact, he wasn't a man, just a boy, I'd say 17 at most.

When I handed him my story, about six pages worth, he asked what it was. I said press copy, collect to Time Inc. He shook his head.

“I can't type,” he said. “I can handle a short telegram, but not this.”

As I mentioned before, the clock was ticking and so was my heart, a bit faster than usual. It was too late to grab a taxi and find another Western Union.

“I can type,” I told the kid.

He was uncertain, saying what if someone wanted to send an emergency telegram. The office had only one machine.

I pointed out that the airport concourse was virtually empty, that he might be in line for a nice tip and next thing you know, there I was, a temporarily employed Western Union man.

For the record, there was only one telegram request while I was typing away. He wanted to let his wife know he would be on a flight getting into Chicago in a few hours. He wanted the telegram sent right away.

“I'll get to it immediately, sir,” I said as I kept on typing my story. “And a happy New Year to you.”

Walter Bingham, a former editor and writer for Sports Illustrated, lives in Truro. He can be contacted by e-mail at sports@capecodonline.com.

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